Papers
by Wicked.Intentions
Summary: Nazi Zombies! Richtofen/Tank. Richtofen wonders what has happened to some of his research papers and interrogates the American with an interesting method.


**Disclaimer:** _Call of Duty: World at War_, all characters and settings, and anything else you would recognize as pertaining to this video game does not belong to me. The plot itself belongs to me. I do not intend to make any money off the writing of this fan fiction; it is merely for entertainment purposes.

* * *

**Title:** _Papers._

**Complete Story Summary: **Richtofen wonders what has happened to some of his research papers and interrogates the American with an interesting method.

**Story Pairing(s):** Edward Richtofen/Tank Dempsey.

**Story Rating:** T.

**Chapter Content:** Coarse language and some male/male contact.

**Notes:** There is just not enough of any of these pairings from "Nazi Zombies."

Oh, and this isn't in the least bit romantic, but that's how I find stories of this nature.

I hope I did these characters justice.

* * *

Richtofen smoothed down his military uniform absentmindedly with a casual brush of his hand as he pulled aside the top page of the pile he was currently hunched over, examining with a feeling of nostalgia. His eyes flicked back and forward in concentration, taking in the German notes scribbled by his own hand. He marveled at his own thoughts inscribed in the margins of the paper, gaining insight as to what had been running through his mind when he had been writing this _fantastisch_ report.

He discarded that one off to the side before returning his attention to the pile once again.

He paused, his lips twitching briefly. He lifted the paper he had read and scanned the one below it. Picked up that one and beheld the one beneath that one. Angrily scattered the pile all over the table, eyes roving over the pages with the speed of a practiced surgeon.

"Vhat the _hell_ happened?" he roared, upturning the rickety wooden table with a crash. He stomped out of the room, alerting his companions to his presence as he entered the mainframe. His boots fell with every step, threatening to break the delicate bones within them with the force applied.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" Tank called confusedly when he looked up from his MG42 that he was toying with.

Richtofen seethed, ascending the steps to the teleporter in front of the Pack-a-Punch machine. "Can any of you tell me vhat happened to my research? I am missing papers from zhe pile."

Takeo, who was seated to the left of the weapon-upgrading machine, shook his head silently. He had not a clue what the doctor was referring to.

Richtofen watched suspiciously as Tank and Nikolai exchanged a second-long glance.

Nikolai waved his hand. "I know not what you speak about."

Tank shrugged helplessly. "Sorry, Doc. Can't help you with that. Maybe the freakbags got a hold of 'em when they came chargin' through."

"I seriously doubt zhat since I had kept zhe papers in a filing cabinet," the doctor told him flatly, folding his arms across his chest. "Zhey are not smart enough to open it."

There was an awkward silence while the two soldiers thought of something to say in response to that.

"Maybe you… misplace them?" Nikolai suggested, taking a swig of his vodka.

"I do not misplace zhese papers. Zhey are of zhe utmost importance to me."

"Ah, hell, Doc, who knows what you did with them? You do crazy shit all the time. Maybe you went into one of your rants and lost them." Tank threaded his hand through his hair distractedly. "...You are a bit of a nutjob, ya know."

Richtofen leveled a glare at him. "Zhat does not happen."

"Bullshit. You came in here stomping like a pissed off teenager when you found out that you had lost a few papers. Big deal."

With a huff, Richtofen turned on his heel and headed towards the Animal Testing Lab once again. He did not misplace his research. His precious research. Everything he had ever recorded about his marvelous experiments. It was too important to him to be "misplaced." One of those men had something to do with the disappearance. He was sure of it.

* * *

Tank rubbed the back of his neck anxiously. "Uh, maybe that wasn't the greatest idea…"

"You suggested it. I just went along with it," Nikolai told him, shaking his head. "You were one that said he would not mind."

"How the hell would I know somethin' like that? We needed somethin' to wipe. It's not my fault that he didn't specify where the toilet paper was."

Nikolai sighed, hunching forward. "What do you think he do to us when he find out we ruined his research? And why did you go through his things?"

"He won't find out. We're not going to tell 'im. And that Tojo bastard isn't either 'cause he doesn't know about it. Who's gonna tell him? The freakbags?" Tank let out a bark of laughter at the thought, struggling to ease his jumbled nerves. Richtofen was _pissed_. That freak creeped him out enough without looking like someone had murdered his best friend. "I went through his stuff 'cause it was the only filing cabinet in this place. Filing cabinets have papers, get it?"

"And you find papers in German and decide, 'What the hell?'"

"Hey! You're just as guilty as I am. You got a good look at the papers before going to take a shit. Don't blame me completely for this."

Nikolai grunted in response. "Well, there is not much we can do now. Except try to survive wrath of Nazi."

"Who isn't gonna find out," Tank added quickly.

"We can only hope, my American comrade. We can only hope."

* * *

With brisk, rapid strides, Richtofen paced the length of the room, fuming silently. He felt like screaming, like breaking things, like shooting his Wunderwaffe DG-2 at everything that moves, like… laughing hysterically until everything else had gone silent. He wanted to do all of those things at once, but he didn't.

He stopped, snapping his head to the side to stare out the nearest window at the rapidly dimming sky. It was almost nighttime and almost time to prepare for his night shift with Tank. While the Russian and Japanese were allowed sleep today, they had to wait until tomorrow night.

He wanted his research back that he had painstakingly perfected for so long. Nobody was allowed to touch it or look at it except for him.

He sat on the edge of the metal table he had replaced the sorry wooden one for, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly. He felt the anger within him simmer, slowly dying down into nothing, leaving him feeling hollow inside.

How could he get the other men to talk? He was already suspicious of both Nikolai and Tank, seeing them exchange that look while he was asking about his research earlier that day. It's difficult to tell if the Japanese is lying or not, seeing as how he only has a single expression of cool nonchalance when not fighting against the zombies.

The American is always involved with these sorts of things. He's always the one that's guilty. He always screws up. Richtofen's lips thinned in his resolve. He was going to get some answers out of that man.

* * *

"Hey, Doc, how's it goin'?" Tank greeted some time later, meeting up with him in the mainframe. Nikolai and Takeo were happily slumbering away in their respective hideouts, one on the catwalk in Teleporter C Room, and the other in the hallway leading to Juggernog.

"Tolerable," Richtofen answered dully. "Zhere is still a little matter zhat has not resolved itself."

Tank laughed awkwardly, and it sounded much too loud to his own ears. He coughed, shifting his weight to his other leg. "So, uh, should we start our rounds?"

Richtofen stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, successfully giving him the creeps. "No, I don't zhink so. Vhy don't you follow me?" He motioned with a couple fingers for the American to accompany him. They made their way to the bridge, crossing it into Teleporter B Room where the metal table and untidy papers rested.

"What are we doin' here?"

"Oh, no reason."

Tank watched Richtofen stalk around the table and to his filing cabinet on the far wall. He wrenched open a drawer that emitted a groan of disuse. He took out the objects contained within it, a pile of yellowed papers that were bound together with a strap of leather. He began reading from the top page, undoing the leather strap as he did. Rapid-fire German sprang from his lips as his frustration with the American built upon itself, oozing from every orifice.

Tank observed this helplessly and wordlessly.

Richtofen slammed the papers down onto the table with the others. He shoved the top page out of the way and skimmed the page below it, reciting it in a jumbled mess of foreign language that sounded shrill to Tank's ears.

The doctor flipped his way through the stack, taking random parts out of it and putting them into verbal words for the American to hear.

Finally, he stopped when he reached the bottom page, his eyes snapping up to lock with the other man's blue eyes. "Do you see? Zhis stack is complete! Every page is here! However," he swept his hand over the newer, whiter pieces of paper scattered over the metal surface, "however," he repeated, "zhis is incomplete."

"Doc, I really don't see what your point is…"

"I know you have somezhing to do vith zhis!" Richtofen growled out. He spat out something in German, and Tank was sure it was an insult of some kind.

"Whatever. Look, we have rounds to do, so why don't we forget about this research bullshit and—"

Tank was cut off when Richtofen appeared behind him before he realized he had moved, and he found himself shoved forward onto the metal table, bent over the edge, his face pressed firmly against the surface. His nose was assaulted by the scent of aged paper and ink, and he felt Richtofen's hand take purchase of the back of his neck, holding him solidly in place.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tank exclaimed, struggling against the tight grip of the Nazi. "Let me go!"

"I know you did somezhing vith my research," Richtofen repeated in a hiss, pressing himself against the panicking American. He bent down and placed his mouth near the soldier's ear. "You vill tell me vhat you have done vith it."

"I don't know what you're talkin' about!"

A noise of displeasure escaped the ticked off German doctor, and he drew himself up to full height. "If you insist on lying to me, I guess I vill need to punish you."

A high-pitched chortle was his response. "Punish me? What are you gonna do to a Marine?"

"Vell, zhere are plenty of zhings I could do to you. I could carve German proverbs into your skin vith a dull blade. I could scrape away zhe top layer of your flesh and bathe you in lemon juice. I could pull your teeth vhile you are still awake! Zhen, I vill get creative…"

Tank wasn't afraid of these threats, oh, no. Never. He had suffered through so much more in the past. However, when there is a psychopathic Nazi pressed against you from behind saying these threats, it worsens the situation significantly. He jerked a little in the other man's grasp.

"But I think I vill stick vith somezhing a little more common…" Richtofen trailed off. He held the moment in suspense while the Marine quivered slightly at the thought of what he was planning on doing.

The grip on his neck tightened a bit, threatening to strangle him while the unoccupied hand of the Nazi settled onto his hip. A knee was forced between his legs, parting them so that Richtofen could fully situate himself between them. The hand on his hip traveled down the front of his leg before backtracking up to his groin. The doctor's breathing became a bit shallow, and Tank was keenly aware of this and absolutely freaked out. Before he could voice his protests at this intimacy, the hand between his legs undid his pants and forced them down his legs.

"What the fuck—!"

"Quiet!" Richtofen cried out. "You musn't vake zhe others! Now try to stay very still…"

He eased down the man's underwear some. His hand was lifted from the warm flesh. It was suspended in midair for a couple seconds… before it was brought down sharply onto the backside of the American.

"Ow! What the—!"

_Slap!_ The hand came down again, smacking soundly against the skin. It lifted again and again, coming down again and again with increasing force and speed every time until Tank was writhing in the German's grasp.

"Ow! Ow! _OW!_ Stop!"

Richtofen was unrelenting in his spanking. "Tell me vhere my research is!" He added some more force to his blows, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing through the small room. He had always been rather good at this sort of thing and was well aware of how much it stung.

"I—I don't—_ow!_—know, damn it! _Ow!_"

"You can end zhis very easily," he was reminded nonchalantly.

Tank bit his lip harder with every slap he received, wishing he had something to grip… His hands slid over the surface of the table, searching. They closed around the papers Richtofen valued so highly and formed fists around them. The papers were crunched and crinkled up, alerting the doctor.

"Stop it!" he roared. "You're making zhings vorse for yourself!"

Tank pushed the papers off the table, gaining satisfaction at the sound of them hitting the floor and disorganizing themselves.

Finally, Richtofen's hand came down once more on glowing red cheeks and stayed there. His fingers danced lightly over the inflamed flesh. "Zhat vasn't very nice…"

Tank's lip had since split open from the teeth that had dug themselves into it, and blood spilled to the surface, dribbling down his chin. It pooled under his face. He glared at the far wall. "Fine…" he grumbled. "I'll tell you what happened to your goddamn papers."

"_Fantastisch!_ Vhere are they?"

"Me and Nikolai used your shitty research to wipe our asses. Are you fuckin' happy?"

There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Tank wished he could see the look on that bastard's face. He could almost say he was happy to have finally told him what they had done.

"…Stay right here. I'll be back," Richtofen ordered after a long while. He removed himself from Tank and exited the room.

Hurriedly, Tank tugged at his pants, forcing himself up off the table. He stumbled towards the staircase that would take him back to the mainframe. He tripped over his pants and landed heavily on the floor. He ripped at his pants and underwear, trying both to crawl down the stairs and pull his clothing back on over his flaming, exposed cheeks. He couldn't believe he was just_ spanked_ by Richtofen. Disbelief was written all over his face.

His ankle was suddenly seized in a vicious grip, and he was dragged backwards up the stairs. The doctor kneeled over him, setting some of his pointy-looking tools on the ground around him.

"Vhere are you going, mein Hund? Ve're not finished yet…" Crazed laugher bubbled up from his throat and left his lips. He cackled madly, reaching for a scalpel. He laughed and laughed, increasing in volume the longer he was unable to control it, leaving him without a single breath.

As terrified as he was, Tank couldn't help but notice the sizeable bulge pressed against his backside as the doctor laughed his freaky head off. God_damn_.


End file.
